Chapter 58
Lirael
He raised the first dart, sighting down its length toward where Celeste stood pressed against the wall, her arms spread wide in a crucifixion pose, silent tears streaming down her face and dripping onto the expensive carpet below.
The dart glinted under the lights, its point sharp enough to pierce bone.
Sebastian's hand was steady, his stance perfect, his focus absolute.
And I couldn't let this happen.
"Wait."
The word tore out of me before I could stop it, sharp and commanding enough to cut through the tension like a blade through silk. Sebastian's arm froze mid-throw, and he turned to look at me with an expression of polite curiosity that didn't quite mask the predatory hunger underneath.
"Yes, Ms. Elena?"
I stepped forward, pulling free from Damian's restraining hand, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat, in my temples, in every nerve ending. "You want a challenge? Use me instead."
Silence fell like a guillotine blade.
Sebastian lowered the dart slowly, his head tilting as he studied me with new interest, his amber eyes cataloguing every detail of my expression. "Oh? And why would you volunteer for that?"
"Because she's terrified." I gestured toward Celeste, who had gone rigid against the wall, her eyes squeezed shut. "Look at her. She's shaking so badly she can barely stand. Where's the challenge in hitting a target that might collapse at any second?" I forced myself to hold his gaze, to keep my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my insides with razor claws. "You said you wanted to test precision and control. So test them on someone who won't flinch."
"Lirael—" Damian started, his voice sharp with warning.
"Elena," I corrected, still staring at Sebastian. "My name is Elena."
Sebastian's smile widened slowly, like a wound opening to reveal what festered beneath. "Interesting. Very interesting indeed." He moved closer, and I had to fight every instinct to back away, to run, to do anything except stand my ground. "You'd rather put yourself at risk than watch someone else suffer. How very... noble. Or perhaps just foolish."
"Call it what you want." I lifted my chin, meeting his eyes even as my pulse hammered against my throat. "Do we have a deal or not?"
He was close enough now that I could see the gold flecks in his eyes, could smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with something darker—blood, maybe, from where I'd bitten him last night, or the particular scent of violence that clung to him like cologne.
His hand came up to touch my face, and I forced myself not to flinch, not to show weakness, even as his fingers traced the line of my jaw with terrible gentleness.
"So brave," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "So determined to play the hero." His hand slid to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there like a promise of violence to come. "But I wonder... are you trying to save her? Or are you trying to prove something to me?"
I held his gaze, refusing to look away even as my pulse hammered against his palm like a trapped bird. "Does it matter?"
"No." His smile was terrible and beautiful and completely insane. "I suppose it doesn't."
He stepped back abruptly, releasing me, and I had to lock my knees to keep from swaying. "Very well, Ms. Elena. I accept your challenge." He gestured toward Celeste with the hand holding the darts. "You may sit down."
Celeste practically collapsed into a chair in the corner, her entire body shaking with relief so profound it looked like she might come apart. I didn't let myself look at her—couldn't afford to show that weakness, that connection, that proof that I cared what happened to her.
Instead, I walked to the dartboard on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else and turned to face Sebastian, pressing my back against the wall. The surface was cool through my blouse, solid and unforgiving.
"Arms out," Sebastian said, demonstrating a crucifixion pose with casual ease. "Like this."
I raised my arms slowly, spreading them wide, feeling the Holo-Skin stretch tight across my shoulders. My heart was racing, but I forced my breathing to stay even, controlled, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
"However," Sebastian continued, moving to stand about fifteen feet away, "if I'm going to do this, we need stakes. Otherwise, where's the fun?"
"What kind of stakes?" Damian demanded, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.
"Simple." Sebastian selected three darts from the case, testing their weight with practiced ease. "If I can place all three darts around Ms. Elena without touching her—left side, right side, and above her head—then she has to promise me one thing. " His eyes found mine across the distance.
"And if you miss?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
"If I miss..." He glanced at Celeste, who had gone very still in her chair. "I'll remove her collar. Set her free. Full documentation, complete legal release. She'll never have to see me again."
Celeste's head snapped up, hope and terror warring in her expression with such intensity that it was painful to witness.
"Elena, don't—" Damian started, moving toward me.
"I accept," I said, cutting him off. Because what choice did I have? If I refused, he'd use Celeste anyway. At least this way, there was a chance—however small—that something good could come from this nightmare.
Sebastian's smile was pure satisfaction. "Excellent. Then let's begin."
He raised the first dart, his movements fluid and practiced, the motion of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. The room seemed to hold its breath as he sighted down the length, his amber eyes narrowing in concentration.
"Ready, Ms. Elena?"
I met his gaze across the distance, saw the hunger there, the barely restrained violence, the twisted fascination that had driven him to chase me through the city, to claim me as his own, to bind me with silver chains and call it protection.
And I thought: One of us is going to die before this is over. The only question is which one, and when.
"Ready," I said, and braced myself for whatever came next.